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Do Not Be One Passerby

A Poem for Humanity

By Marilyn GloverPublished 3 years ago 2 min read
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Photo: Homeless Man/ DepositPhotos

Curbside a homeless man huddles under an old tarp

Blowing into a harmonica, I recognize the Hollie’s song

His lips pursed, focused only on his music, blocking out

The backdrop of society just as society blocks out him

He plays an oldie but a goodie; a forever keepsake while

Pressed suits and Channel handbags scurry on by

Carelessly tossing coins into his tattered russet hat,

Some change misses, hitting the pavement; plinking

Coppers and silvers scattered like breadcrumbs thrown

To desperate pigeons yet pigeons are intelligent birds

Who mankind perceives useless foul; oblivious people

Ears glued to cellulars and fingertips texting entranced by

Social media; ping, Facebook messenger is calling!

Plinking coins continue as traffic racing by becomes congested;

Jammed up, taxi cab drivers shout obscenities out of rolled down

Windows while flicking cigarette butts, impatient for next fares

Street washers brushing, construction workers barking orders

Over screaming drills, hammering partitions; commotion

Nothing diverts the grey haired man from his harmonica

Not even the sun playing peekaboo behind rainclouds

An April forecast is anyone’s best guess, rain, and maybe snow

For him the sun always shines although metaphorically speaking

His spirit has not weathered despite his appearance; survivor

A furrowed forehead and silver mane suggests history

Much more so than that of an aging lonely Man

His improper footwear is like that of balding tires

I wonder how many miles we would have to walk

Before filling those same shoes with proper mileage

A parade of rainbow umbrellas strolls past him lowering

By anxious tourists as the morning hour squalls subside,

Toting along shopping bags, luggage rolling behind, stopping

For group photos and selfies posting in haste to Instagram

Top priorities and big goals for humans do you not know?

Attention turns; the aroma of hot dog stands and pretzels

Draw people in like vultures; hovering behind me in line

Waiting my turn, The Hollie’s song plays on repeat

I think to myself it sounds even better the second time

It is a shame that folks are deaf; a concert for one I suppose

“ One frank with the works and a hot chocolate coming right up”

Concession guy replies rewarding with extra onions and relish

Order in hand I zigzag through the crowd to an open seat

Next to the Man; he lifts his head and pauses his song

Lightheartedly smiling at my gesture a connection is made

In unison we sing the lyrics of the classic together:

“He’s not heavy he’s my brother”

I

inspirational
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About the Creator

Marilyn Glover

I am a top Medium writer, editor, and owner of the publication Third Eye Gypsy. Poetry and spirituality are my favorite genres, and I like writing about topics often left untouched. Follow me at: https://gmarilyn009.medium.com/

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